


Twin Light

by Dragonsphinx



Category: Arc the Lad: Twilight of the Spirits
Genre: AU, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Effeminate Kharg, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kharg's personality is very different, M/M, Sexual Harassment, Slow Build, Twincest, Weak Kharg, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsphinx/pseuds/Dragonsphinx
Summary: AU. Humans and Deimos live together. They do not war for there are no more Spirit Stones to fight over. And no magic, nor energy, from them.When the Spirit Stones ran out, people turned once more to coal. The lesser people, both Deimos and Humans, were enslaved and put to work digging. Rich Deimos and Humans live the highlife in castles and mansions, waited on hand and foot by slaves.Kharg Nidellia, having watched his mother Nafia die when he was just a boy, was given a slave of his own by his ruthless uncle–a little halfbreed named Darc. Despite wanting to free the slaves, Kharg is too physically weak. And his uncle sees to it that he is kept a watchful eye on at all times.Having lost his father, and caught by the Nidellia Castle slave owner Geedo when he was young, Darc despises the monarchy. He dreams of nothing more than freedom. Yet there is something about the gentle Prince that he is irresistibly drawn to. Yet he knows he must not be distracted–his father tasked him with only one thing: find your missing brother.Freedom and his brother...that is all Darc needs for happiness...





	1. Monarchy–Kharg

**Author's Note:**

> I hope there are still some Arc Twilight of Spirits fans out there that are looking for some new work. I absolutely love this game–am replaying it after many years having first played it back in 2010. It's one of my favourites.
> 
> I've wanted to write some Darc x Kharg fanfiction for a while, but didn't get into fanfic writing until recently. So this is kind of a long-term dream. Maybe it will bring some cheer into somebody's day the way all the other Darc x Kharg fanfics did to mine!
> 
> A couple things I wanted to get out of the way:  
>   
> 1\. It's a long story and hence will obviously be slower at getting to the 'action' than the shorter fics.
> 
> 2\. I've only played Arc: ToS, not any of the other Arc the Lad games. Hence I apologise if something in this fic offends lore present in previous or later games. Please assume such details don't apply to this universe.
> 
> 3\. While it probably won't be super graphic, there will be some references to, as well as scenes of sexual harassment and obviously incest considering the pairing. If that puts you off, you may wish to tread lightly. Just a heads up.
> 
> 4\. Same as #3 for violence, pain, and abuse. I'm not a fan of "gore for gore's sake" so while the detail will be kept light, and time spent on the detail will be only as long as the story needs to make a point (i.e. very brief basically always), there will still be references to, and mentions of some harsh stuff including domestic violence, torture and such. Again, reader discretion is advised.
> 
> 5\. While the text is going to assume the reader knows at least some of the game's universe, I'll try and leave 'glossaries' of important things into the notes, since I like to try and write for fans and non-fans alike.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> 'GLOSSARY'  
> DEIMOS: Humanoid monsters that are sentient and able to use magic, as well as some weapons. Deimos, however, need Spirit Stones to cast magic. There are many different species.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER:  
> I don't own any of the characters, locations or concepts of Arc Twilight of Spirits, their rights belong to the respective owners. This is purely a transformative fan-fiction / parody not-for-profit work not intended to infringe the rights of the creator(s).

My memories of that day are fuzzy, except for how dark it was. Clouds grey as lead had drawn close around the castle, heavy with rain but refusing to release their pressure. The candles were all burning, just like at nighttime. I held onto my stuffed Wyvern as I stood in the hall. I’m sure something of my memory is distorted, because I know there is no corridor that leads up to my mother’s room that’s so long. But I’m sure I stood there, as I watched the servants running in and out of her chambers.

I was scared.

I don’t know how long I was there—whether it was the whole day, or it just felt like it—but I don’t remember doing anything else. Just waiting, and feeling like someone was about to push me down a deep hole where I’d never be able to climb back out of.

Finally, the servants backed out of my mother’s room. The women had their hands clasped together, a few were weeping. The men held their clenched fists over their hearts. My uncle stepped out and closed the doors behind him, the sound echoing with a strange finality.

What’s going on?

I don’t know if I said it out loud, or if it just echoed in my head, over, and over, and over. But my uncle turned around and strode over to me.

 

What’s going on?

Mother has gone away.

Where has she gone?

To a place we cannot follow.

Why has she gone?

Her time here has ended.

Can’t she come back?

Not anymore.

What’s going to happen now?

Now we must carry on the work that she began. There are many Deimos and Humans alike who looked to her for guidance, just as her family did. We must be there for them. We must be the guiding light and the strong leaders that they need.

What must I do?

Your time will come child. Later. But right now you are but a bud on the great tree of the monarchy. One day you will bloom—that is when your time will come. However, now is not that time. Worry not, for I will take care of you. I will care for you, and lead you, as well as our people.

I’m scared.

I’m sure you are.

I want mommy.

Your longing and grief are to be expected. She cannot be with you anymore. But she has left something for you to remember her by, a gift in your room. And something else—someone. No one can occupy the space the great queen has left in our hearts, but perhaps this will help to ease your loneliness.

 

Two men walked forward, dressed in the uniform of the Enforcers—the guards who are the law and who watch the slaves. They were escorting a young Deimos. As they arrived, they pushed the boy who stumbled a few paces toward us. He looked strange. He looked a little more human than the others. Little curving horns and pointed ears. He had little wings and his left arm was covered in blue scales, just like a Drakyr’s. But his other arm was more human, like his body. He wore the slaves’ dull uniform: a black shirt and trousers. Around his neck was a collar, a black bulky thing. His eyes darted about, like an animal in a trap. He shook a bit.

“A…Deimos?” At the sound of my words his gaze settled on me. I don’t know whether he only then realized I was there, or it merely gave him something to focus on.

“Yes Kharg. This Deimos will be your personal servant from now on. He’ll stay by your side and keep you company. You wish something done, you just order him.”

I glanced back toward him. His dark brown eyes were vivid, almost red. They stared at me, loaded with emotions I couldn’t read. He must have been about my age—we were the same height. I waved my hand a little.

“Uhh…hi.” He made no response.

Uncle stepped forward, drew his favourite switch from where it was strapped to his leg, and slapped it against his open palm.

“You, slave. This will be your new master. You are to obey his every word, do you hear me? Do as you’re told and you will live a decent life here with the other palace servants. Disobey and there will be hell to pay. Mark my words.” The little Deimos turned to my uncle, and his gaze turned fiery. Still he said nothing. My uncle’s eye twitched and I saw his jaw working. “Well…bow!” He did nothing. “On your knees, slave! Bow before your masters.” He did nothing. Uncle reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a little device, crushing the button on it down. Suddenly the Deimos cried out in pain and collapsed, his body twitching and jerking about unnaturally as he clutched the collar. Uncle watched, eyes gleaming. “Serves you right. Clearly you need to be taught a lesson.” He kept pressing, pressing.

The Deimos boy screamed and cried out. “Stop! Please stop!”

“Stop it!” I grabbed my uncle’s arm and pulled. Caught off-guard, he swayed, then shoved me away. I stumbled back and hit the wall.

“Stupid boy! What do you think you’re doing?” Now focussed on me, he’d stopped activating the device, and the Deimos boy lay on the floor breathing heavily. He, too, was peering over at me.

“D-don’t hurt him…” I muttered. “It’s not fair… H-he’s probably just scared and confused about where he is.”

I heard the little Deimos scoff under his breath.

Uncle sighed, and thankfully pocketed the remote again. “Foolish child,” he said more evenly. “You’re still much too soft-hearted. Slaves don’t understand compassion or logic the way you and I do. Deimos in general, boy, are different from us. All they really understand is strength.” He walked over to me, squatting beside me and patting my hair. It sent cold shivers through me. “We must display our strength if they disobey and put them in their place. If we don’t , they’ll run a mockery of us. These are the difficult decisions that a king must make.” He sighed again, like a tolerant father being patient with his incompetent son. “One day you’ll understand, Kharg. One day, you’ll see.” He stood up and nodded to the Enforcers, who hoisted the Deimos to his feet. He swayed, shoulder’s drooping, but managed to stay upright. “You, slave. Have you a name?”

He glared at my uncle. “Yes.”

“‘Yes, _master.’_ ”

The boy stayed silent again, until uncle reached into his coat pocket. “Yes, _master._ ” He spoke it like a cuss.

“Better. Well?”

“It’s Darc.” My uncle glared at him, hand still in his coat. Darc’s attention flicked to his arm then back. “They call me Darc, master.”

“Very good. Take him away and have the servants get him ready. I expect you to be on your best behaviour while you’re here. I have no patience for disobedient worms.” He waved dismissively, and the Enforcers dragged Darc away. His eyes held mine until he was turned around and marched away. Once they were gone, I picked Wyvvy back up and held him close. “Come now Kharg, don’t look like that. Things will feel alright again soon enough. Why don’t you go to your room now and read or something. Take your mind off all this.” He waved again, this time for someone to approach. Two familiar ladies came up and took me by the shoulders, softly guiding me back toward my room.

I walked in a daze. The halls felt too empty, too cold.

_Mother will never walk on these carpets again. Mother will never call my name again. She will never sit with me and read stories to me. And this little Deimos is supposed to take her place?_

As I lay in bed, tucked under the soft blankets, I recalled the way Darc had looked at me. Those vibrant eyes, deep and full of anger.

“He hates me.”


	2. 15 Years Later–Darc

I was walking through a wood I didn’t recognize, a purple haze thick on the ground. I was just a child, and had been told many a time to not venture beyond the pass that separated Drakynia from the rest of the continent. It had been an adventure to defy the rules. It was beginning to dawn on me just why those rules existed.

_Father?_ Calling out was inane, no one would hear me. Yet some panicky hope held out that someone would. _Father? Father! Someone help me…_

The branches above wove together, their web blocking out the sun. I ran and ran in circles until I could run no more. Collapsing against the nearest tree, I tried to steady my breathing. In that lull I heard it—melodious singing. I carried on toward it, and soon a clearing appeared. And there they were. Dancing around in the rare beams of sunlight dappling the forest floor, a small group of Aingelycs. They were almost human-like, but with pale almost lucid skin, and hair like spun gold. Each had a pair of snow-white wings, and an aura that formed a faint halo above their heads—a light blue glow that wasn’t always visible. I crouched in the shadow of a tree, watching as a handful of them danced to the tune of the music. One of them sat at the edge of the circle, playing an Ortena as she sang.

_~Over the clouds and through the night stars,_

_~We fly as we make our way._

_~If the storms of the world should lead us astray,_

_~I’ll fly back to your side one day._

The lullaby was so sweet I found myself dozing off. I slumped against the gnarled roots and slid down, lids drooping shut as the figures danced around in the sun. I had nearly fallen asleep when I realized the singing had stopped.

_What a sweet little half-Drakyr child._ It was the voice of the singing Aingelyc. She was kneeling close-by. She was…so beautiful. _Little-horn, you can’t fall asleep here. You’ll catch a cold. Little-horn? Get up._

 

“Get up you filthy wretches!” The sun hadn’t even risen when Geedo’s crow-like voice screeched across the servants’ quarters. She came through, pounding open doors. “Get up! Get up! This isn’t an inn. You’re not paid to sleep all day. Get up and get going. There’s work to be done. Heavens help those who are the last in the assembly room.”

And just like that, my pleasant dream was over. The old toad waddled along, throwing open the doors to the boys’ rooms and then the girls’. I jumped up with the rest, happy that my body knew the motions by heart since I certainly wasn’t awake enough to think yet.

‘Little-horn.’ No one I knew called me by that nickname. Yet I knew I’d heard it before. I was sure that my dream was just supplanting the words into the Aingelyc’s mouth. I just couldn’t recall where I’d actually heard it.

We rolled up our sleeping mats, clearing them away into the cupboards with our night clothes. Our feet drummed on the old floors as we rushed into the shared washrooms. A wall separated the mens from the womens sections. I shuddered as the cold water hit me, fighting the urge to beat my wings—in that cramped space I’d earned more than my fair share of smacks for hitting others with them. Boilers wouldn’t be turned on for another hour. Damn the court and the royals, hogging all the hot water for themselves. The only chance for a steaming shower was in the evening, if the fancy folk hadn’t used it all up by then. The brisk wash did serve to wake me up though.

I was among the first to finish and to make my way back to the dressing area. I pulled on my uniform in a hurry. Underneath they were identical to the slave outfits of the trenches: a black shirt and trousers. But we had coloured tunics to pull over the top, that bore the insignia of the royal family: a dahlia flower with two folded wings—one a feathered wing like a dove’s and the other much like my own, a Drakyr wing—and surrounded by a ring of symbols. My tunic was blue, indicating my status as the prince’s personal servant, while the other boys wore simple brown. The girls had white tunics, except for a few with yellow ones—they too served the royal family personally. I despised the garments. They were a tight fit, and I had to bind my wings underneath uncomfortably. Then there was the bloody preening, washing faces and tearing at hair. I could only be glad that the prince wasn’t particular about that, my routine only involved getting to ‘presentable.’ I pitied Delma. She had the worst of it, and sometimes it made her late—earning her many a caning from Geedo.

“What’s taking so long?! Worthless fools!”

I wrenched a comb through my hair a few times and threw it aside, then ran out. I wasn’t going to start today with a beating, presentability be damned.

We ran into the assembly room—the large open space just outside the sleeping quarters where we spent the little free time we had relaxing or cooking meals 0ver the fire pit—and lined up in front of Geedo. She was pacing in front of the exit, wobbling in the lantern light like a gelatinous pudding.

“Well, what a surprise. Everyone’s on time for a change. It seems miracles do happen,” she cawed, slapping the black switch in her hand against her palm. “Good. Now, listen up! King Yumalnoh of Milmarna is visiting the royal Nidellia family today. I want no screw ups for this afternoon’s luncheon, and especially the ball tonight. Everything is to be perfect, do you hear? The miners are bringing a fresh shipment of coal soon to ensure that there will be enough hot water for the whole castle all day through. You lot there, bring it in as soon as it arrives, and make sure no soot gets into the main halls! You lot will handle setting up the dining hall for both events, and you lot are on service duty. The rest of you be on hand to service the court members and royals with whatever they need.” She slapped the switch against a nearby table so hard the crack made us jump.“And as for you…” Geedo turned to us now. I was standing off to the side with the rest of the ‘dyed’ servants, those of us with different coloured tunics. “I want you to be especially on your toes tonight. I don’t want any complaints of misbehaviour from your lieges. And Darc,” she narrowed her eyes at me, “see to it that the prince is ready to meet with King Yumalnoh today. Our lord and king, Lucien Nidellia, wants to make a good impression. Don’t you _dare_ mess this up!” She turned to address everyone again. “Don’t _any_ of you dare screw this up today. I promise there will be plentiful whippings in store for any miscreants who don’t take this seriously. However, since today there will be a good deal of food and coal, very likely some will be left over after the festivities. In other words, for those of you who pull your weight, there will be a banquet and hot showers in store. Understood!?”

“Yes! Madam Geedo!” we called out in chorus.

She smacked the switch against the table with a violent crack. “Then what are you waiting for? _Get moving!_ ”

We poured out of the assembly room and into the servants’ corridors like a flash flood. I made for the first exit and emerged behind a large banner hanging by the wall in the entrance hall.

The main doors were open, and a few members of court were drifting about. I stood behind the banner and watched them. Two Drakyr in formal outfits were chatting with a lady in a pink dress. She giggled coyly, hiding behind her painted fan. A female Orcon in a simple white summer gown held onto the crook of a gentleman’s arm as he guided her along. Everyone wore a pin on their right breast, of a dahlia with wings.

Members of the royal court.

It was amusing how they glided around, their own servants carrying around lanterns to ward off the early dim, with bright expressions plastered on their faces along with heavy makeup.

“What are you standing there for? You know stalling isn’t going to make things any better.”

I jerked forward from the surprise. Delma was standing behind me, arms crossed, less than impressed. I felt a little bad for her: the yellow of her tunic did not compliment her skin tone in the least. At least the black undergarments did a little to mediate the garish clash of colours.

“Stop sneaking up on me like that. And I wasn’t stalling, just thinking.”

“Of what?”

I nodded toward the courtiers. “How can someone live such a fake life? Look at them: smiles so wide they’d freak a puppet out. And still they can’t hide how tired they all obviously are. Huh, figures that these fools wouldn’t get up before noon for anything less than an audience with the royal family themselves.” I fought the urge to spit and wound up grinding my teeth instead.

Delma smirked. “It’s all they know: how to be fake. C’mon Darc, we gotta go. I certainly do anyway. Paulette gets up early and she’s going to give me hell if I keep her waiting. You’d better moving yourself. Won’t the prince be expecting you?”

I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to punch the wall. “I’m no hound wagging his tail when told.”

“Darc! Keep your voice down!” she hissed, then added in a low voice, “Look, I get it. We all get it. Nobody wants to be here, but you’d better change that way of thinking or keep it to yourself. You know nothing good will come of it.” She tapped the heavy collar around my neck with her claw. My eyes went to the identical one around hers.

I shook my head. “I know.” I swallowed my bile.

“You think _I_ like my job? But at least it’s better than working in the mines and trenches.”

“That’s dubious.”

Down the halls bells began ringing. “C’mon, quick. We gotta go.” She pushed past me into the open and headed for the stairwell. I followed behind her.

We walked close to the wall, keeping our eyes down. Members of court floated by sometimes, wholly oblivious to our existence. Several servants ran by, keeping silent, but sometimes sparing us a glance. Delma and I made for the upper floors. On the third floor she waved goodbye and headed down toward Paulette’s room. I kept going to the fourth floor—the royal quarters.

My feet were silent on the plush carpets. I made my way beside the wall to the familiar door and paused, listening. There was no sound. Could Kharg still be asleep? I weighed my options, and decided on a light knock. Hopefully it wouldn’t wake him if he was still sleeping.

There was a thud from inside. “W-who is it?”

_He’s up already? At this hour?_

“It’s me.”

_‘It’s me_ my prince, _’_ I heard Geedo’s harsh voice correct in my mind. _‘Learn to show some respect, unless you’re a friend of pain. It’s just a matter of time until the prince grows tired of your cheek!’_

I ground my teeth, fighting the bile that rose anew at the thought. Yet no chastisement came from within the room. There was more thudding and banging, like he was shoving something out of sight hurriedly.

“C-come in.”

I opened the door. The heavy curtains were drawn, and the whole room was dingy. A single lantern glowed on his writing desk. Kharg was out of breath, leaning against the table awkwardly, smiling in that unnaturally over-happy way you do to pretend that ‘definitely nothing out of the ordinary was just taking place, promise.’ _Idiot. It’s not like I’d be allowed to even ask about what you just hid, moron._ He was staring at the floor, blinking hard.

I bowed my head. “The king wanted me to accompany you today through the festivities.”

“Oh—! M-my u-ungle did…?” He pronounced ‘uncle’ in a funny nasally way at the back of his throat, which I took great enjoyment in since it pissed the king off to no end. “I m-mean, yes of c-c-c-c-c-.” He shook his head, clamping a hand over his mouth, rubbing the sides of his jaw. “I m-m-mean, is that s-so.”

My arrival must have spooked him. Apparently it was going to be a bad day. Damn.

I strode over to the windows. “The sun is beginning to rise. You should let the dawnlight in.” I drew the curtains back, and Kharg flinched at the nascent light.

There were dark circles under his eyes. His blond hair, longer than mine, hung loose down to his shoulder blades. The simple black, long-sleeved shirt he wore did much to hide how skinny he’d become. The times I’d seen him wearing something else, I could count on a single hand. Despite how often his uncle protested and mocked him for his clothes, calling him a ‘Dirty Slave Lover’ even in public, Kharg donned the simple garment again and again. Below the waist he wore a blue kilt with the Nidellia crest on it. It was almost identical in shape to the red garment father had given me, which I was barely ever allowed to wear anymore. I was glad I’d at least managed to hide it away from Geedo and her spies, along with the Wind Stone.

Kharg blinked hard again, swaying a little. “Th-that’s alright. J-just leave the c-c-c-curtains c-c-c-c-cl-” he swallowed hard. “Just l-leave them.”

I drew the curtains a little in, not closing them again completely. “If you’re working on something, wouldn’t it be better to wait until sunrise?”

“I c-c-c-can manage. Thank you.” He fidgeted, reaching back and scratching at his shoulder blades. “My eyes h-have adjusted.”

I watched him, eyes narrowed, without moving. He shuffled uncomfortably under the attention, rubbing his arms as if cold. “Have you slept at all?”

“Wha— Umm…” He glanced around.

_That’s a ‘no.’_

“Kharg…when did you—”

“I s-suppose my ungle ordered you to fuss over me b-because of th-this d-d-dumb luncheon with th-the foreign king, eh?” He laughed a little nervously. “I so d-d-despise these silly functions…” He scratched at his right upper arm—a habit he’d had since he was just a boy. I just nodded.

I had to admit, I was grateful that Kharg was so low-maintenance. His uncle Lucien liked to snap at the slightest hesitation on anyone’s part. Paulette obsessively filled every silent moment with mindless prattle, as if she needed constant sound to stay sane. But with Kharg, these silent moments were neither forced nor awkward. We could just be without saying a thing. The quiet was comforting, with all the noise the rest of the castle was filled by.

“I’m not p-p-putting on anything fancy,” he said said suddenly. “If my ungle th-thinks I’m going to dress up l-like some c-c-c-court fool, he’s going to b-be sorely d-d-disa-p-pointed.”

I nodded. “Alright.” _And_ Kharg liked to deal with his own clothing, thank the spirits. My thoughts went again to Delma, who was forced to play along with Paulette’s dress-up games every day, and it only got worse for functions and events.

_Maybe I should do something nice for Delma on our next day off. She really does have it rough._

“I-it’s fine, really,” he said. “I…I d-d-don’t really need anything. Y-you c-c-c-can go, i-it’s f-fine.”

A thrill ran through me—yes, another easy day! I had an out from this nightmare hassle. I could skip the whole function and instead go into town, pretending to be out on orders, smell the freshly baked goods at the bakery, watch the Orcon kids chase each other through the streets, listen to the temple girl play music out by the forest. My body was ready to run out at full speed, but a stray thought kept me rooted. I spoke before I realized what I was saying.

“You haven’t called for me for quite a while, and the few times I’ve come you always let me go. Is everything…alright?”

_Why are you questioning this?! Idiot! Just take the permission and run with it. It’s not like you’ll get any extra thanks for working instead!_

But Kharg turned his back on me, and for some reason my stomach dropped. “I’m… I-it’s…”

“Kharg?” I found myself taking a step toward him, reaching for him. “What’s—?”

“Kharg!” The door to his room was thrown open, and Lucien marched in, his personal servants right behind him carrying a veritable parade of lanterns. Kharg jumped so hard he stumbled into his desk. I grabbed him by the shoulders before he fell. He went rigid in my arms.

“Uhh…Darc…?” he whispered.

“Good, you’re up,” his uncle announced in his booming voice. “Although I see you’re not properly dressed yet.” Lucien shot a demeaning glare at me. “You there, Deimos boy. Do you think I keep you around just so you can loiter and lay about?”

I could feel my jaw tightening. _You have some nerve talking to me like I’m still some half-pint snot nosed brat. Give me a chance and I swear I’ll show you…_

“I’m alread-dy d-d-dressed. I d-d-d-don’t w-want t-to p-put on anything f-f-f-fancy.”

Lucien waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be stupid. You’re the royal prince of Nidellia. There’s no way you can waltz around today looking like a dog off the streets. You boy,” he snapped his fingers at me twice, “fetch the formalwear.”

I wanted to bite him. Or slash him. Or throw him off the parapets. Instead I walked over to the walk-in closet and pulled the silken garments from their place on the shelf. Back in the room I laid them on Kharg’s bed. Knowing him, he wouldn’t let me help him dress even if his uncle commanded it.

“Hurry and get dressed Kharg. I still need to pay a visit to the Plumb Canyon mining camps before King Yumalnoh arrives for the luncheon. I _don’t_ intend to be late, and certainly not because of your dilly-dallying.”

“I…” Kharg’s mouth worked silently, like he was gasping for a breath he couldn’t take. “I… I’m…”

“If you have something to say Kharg, you should just spit it out. You look like a beached fish,” Lucien sighed and snapped at me again. “Boy, hurry up! Don’t just stand there like lawn ornament! Get to work!”

Kharg cast his eyes to the carpet, jaw locked, bitterness and disappointment in his eyes.

Lucien treated all the servants like rats he wasn’t quite able—or allowed—to exterminate. _We_ were used to it. And while Kharg and I weren’t exactly friends, it still surprised me that the man could be so cold toward even his own nephew.

_That man is more of a monster than I am._

The king may have marched out, but some of his servants stayed behind—to monitor us, we knew. They stood by the door, one of them shooting me apologetic looks. Reluctantly, for the both of us, I helped Kharg put on the blue embroidered kimono while Lucien’s spies watched keenly. Vurez’s eyes lingered hungrily on Kharg as he began to pull off his shirt in order to slip on the undergarments. I went to grab the bamboo partition from the corner of the room.

“Hold on there, brother,” the blue Orcon said. “We can’t have you hiding now, can we?” he said with a dirty smirk. “Hoping to hide your laziness from us are you? Too bad, His Highness is in a hurry. We’ve got to make sure that you’re working as quickly as you can. So get over there and get the prince undressed, why don’t you.”

“Since when did you need to see the prince undressing, Vurez?!” I spat back. “I doubt your staring is going to make any difference in how quickly this gets done, so why don’t you back off?” I ignored him and brought the partition over to Kharg, who had frozen like a quarry in the crosshairs, with only the hem of his shirt raised. He nodded in thanks and I withdrew to the other side to watch that Vurez and his little posse didn’t get any bright ideas. Much quicker than I thought, Kharg appeared beside me in his kimono.

“W-would you h-help w-w-with the obi?” He held the embroidered sash out to me, eyes firmly focussed on the carpet. “I c-c-c-can’t d-do it alone.”

I stepped around the partition, shooting Vurez a warning glare. I turned to accept the obi…and stopped. The silky blue fabric fitted around him flawlessly, catching the dawning light and shining like an icy pearl. It complemented his pale skin…surprisingly well… He pulled the robe tight, and it adhered to the contours of his body. I knew how smooth the fabric was, but what would it feel like to slide my hand over it now? Over the curve of the smal of his back, his hip…his thigh…

“Are y-y-you g-going to d-do it?”

My attention snapped to Kharg. My words caught in my throat. “Uhh…!”

“The obi?”

I blinked. “Ah, yeah. Course…” I quickly slipped the obi sash around him and tied it as fast as I could.

_What the hell is wrong with me? What am I thinking? Did I just think about his—?_

I was a little taller, and as I stood behind him, my eyes fell on the nape of his neck—the smooth line as it disappeared down into the robe.

“Ow!” He stumbled forward. “You d-don’t have to yank it s-so tight. It’s not a c-c-c-corset.”

“S-sorry!” I shook my head. By the door, Vurez cackled. “Do you need me to loosen it?”

“I’m alright…i-it’s fine.”

“If you two are done faffing around, the King is rather anxious to leave,” Vurez announced pointedly. The other servants had already opened the door and were shuffling out.

We walked around to the main door. The stupid Orcon as leaning against the doorframe like a loitering teen, watching the others go by. He leered. I balked. Behind me Kharg came to a sudden stop.

“W-what’s w-wrong, D-D-Darc?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong Da-Da-Da-Daaaarc?” Vurez mocked. “You’re running late as it is. Wouldn’t want Geedo to find out you’ve been throwing a wrench into the works on purpose by dragging your heels.”

_Bastard._

“You walk on ahead,” I growled back. “Your master’s waiting.”

“Oi, oi! You don’t give me orders. Between us, I’m your superior. Let’s not forget which of us serves the King himself!” He took a step forward.

“You! Deimos boy!” Lucien’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Come here!”

Vurez nodded in its direction. “Looks like you’re being summoned.”

“Maybe he’s calling you!” I clenched my fist hard, willing myself not to punch him.

“Bahaha! Good one. You’re the only ‘Deimos boy’ around here.”

“Boy! Now!”

I pushed past Vurez and headed for Lucien. Just before I left I felt a gentle hand touch my back. I marched on ahead, ignoring it, thinking Vurez was being a dick, until I heard a quiet voice.

“D-Darc…?” Kharg stepped out of the room, trying to follow.

“Hey now, little prince.” Vurez caught him by the sash. “I think your obi’s on a little too tight. We’d better fix that.”

I turned around in time to see Vurez drag Kharg back into the room, and slam the door shut behind him. I raced back. As I grabbed the handle the locked clicked inside.

“Hey!” I pounded on the door. “Vurez, what do you think you’re doing?!” I pressed my ear against the door to make out his muffled voice. He wasn’t talking to me.

“Well now…” he was chuckling, bemused. “Let’s see if we can’t loosen that sash of yours, little prince.”

“Vurez! You snake!!” I yanked the handle but nothing came of it.

“What’s all this noise, Deimos boy?” Lucien came sauntering up. “First you take all morning, then I find you beating the walls down. Stop making a racket before you wake the whole castle.”

“Please, sir! Vurez has just locked himself inside with the prince!”

But the king didn’t seem all that bothered. “Has he now? And what of it?”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Sir, who knows what that bast— I mean, that scoundrel is going to try? We have to do something!”

“That’s a pretty harsh accusation, and wholly unfounded I’ll add.” He turned around, content to leave. “The main thing here is that we stay on schedule. I’ll have a word with Vurez later about this delay—”

I slammed my shoulder into the door. It bucked, cracking satisfyingly under the attack. The horn in my shoulder lodge into the wood. I pushed myself free and backed up, ready to run at it again.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Lucien shouted. “You animal! Stop at once!”

I ignored him, and slammed against the door again. On the third time the pathetic little lock snapped off—even the top hinge came loose. I threw the door wide, running at Vurez without a second thought. He had enough time to turn from the bed to me in wide-eyed shock before I grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him across the room. He stumbled over his own feet and faceplanted straight into a glass case on, filled with ornaments, on the wall opposite. He lay there a few moments, then moaning painfully started to get up. Once I knew he wasn’t going to jump me, I turned to Kharg.

“Are you al—”

He was lying on the bed, propped up on his elbows, pale and shocked. The obi lay on the floor. He clutched at his open robes, trying to pull it over his exposed skin.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Lucien pushed past his servants and re-entered the room. I pulled Kharg up and swiftly pulled his robes closed, tying the sash around him again however I could quickly manage. “You just destroyed royal property, slave boy! I’ll make sure you are punished for this! Mark my words you’ll pay back every gold piece this damage is worth in blood and screams!”

“Can’t you see what just happened!” I shouted back. “Vurez just tried to take advantage of your own nephew! Shouldn’t that mean more to you than a stinking door?!”

Lucien’s face flushed red with rage and his servants backed away to the walls in fear. “Why you little—!” He grabbed the switch at his leg. “I’ll teach you to talk back to me!”

I flinched away, bracing. The switch came down with all the power of his right swing, stinging flesh. There was a pained cry. I felt none of the pain. I opened my eyes to see Kharg kneeling by the bed, cheek bleeding, the force of the blow having sent him falling.

“You…” I stepped back.

“Don’t hurt him!” Kharg shouted. “It’s n-not his f-fault. He w-w-was h-helping!”

“Stupid, useless, worthless waste of space!” Lucien threw the switch at him. Kharg flinched as it bounced off his back. Then the king turned back to me, ripping the collar remote from his coat pocket. “I’ll remind you just who you bow to, slave!”

Electricity surged through my collar. I don’t know if I cried out, but I did double over and collapse. I thrashed and grasped at the collar, just praying it would stop. I’m not sure what happened in between, but Lucien finally let up. I lay there breathing slowly, trying not to move and irritate my burning neck. That would sting for a while.

Regaining his composure, Lucien brushed back his dark hair and fixed his suit, pocketing the remote.

“Get Kharg ready. And clean this up.” He waved vaguely at the room. “I expect you in the carriage in half an hour.” With that, he and his servants left.

_Half an hour…right._ I pushed myself slowly up onto my elbows, and looked at the broken door, the shattered glass all over the floor, then at Kharg. His face was bruised and the cut was still bleeding

_Half an hour then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers!  
> I have not given up on this fic or anything - I actually have quite a few chapters finished on my computer. I've just had some things pop up in RL and I haven't been able to get back to it.  
> But I'm back working on this now, so hopefully I'll be able to update a bit more frequently now.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you like this so far.


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